25.—The pluck of Dogherty was not yet taken out of him, and whilst he entertained the smallest notion of a chance remaining, he was determined to stand up, although so dreadfully worsted every round. A desperate hit from Belcher again made him measure his length on the ground.
26 and last.—Dogherty, with the most determined resolution, endeavoured to rise superior to exhausted nature, and would not cry “enough!” He made a desperate rally to effect a change in his favour, evincing that no common caterer could satisfy his inordinate gluttony. Belcher, however, hit him almost where he pleased, and wound up the piece by throwing and falling on him. Dogherty could not come again; he was decidedly finished; and some time elapsed before he could get up. He was bled in both arms upon the ground, and instantly conveyed home and put to bed.
This well-contested fight continued thirty-five minutes, and upon Belcher’s being declared the conqueror, he threw a somersault, and immediately got into a barouche and drove off to Dublin to a dinner provided for him by a party of gentlemen.
If this distinguished boxer claimed the admiration of the spectators from the scientific manner in which he won the battle, and the superior adroitness he displayed in protecting himself from scarcely receiving any injury, it is but justice to observe, that Dan Dogherty proved himself a milling hero of the first stamp; and the true courage he displayed ought not to be forgotten. As a proof that his efforts made considerable impression, a subscription, amounting to upwards of £70, was immediately made for him, the Marquis of Sligo putting down 5 guineas; to this Belcher subscribed a guinea. Tom continued several months after this battle in Ireland, exhibiting specimens of his skill, in company with Hall, with increased reputation and success. At Cork and Dublin his well-earned fame produced him numerous respectable scholars, among whom several persons of rank were conspicuous.
The advantages of superior science were never more clearly shown, than in this combat. The dexterity, ease, and perfect sang froid with which Belcher defeated Dogherty surprised even those who were somewhat acquainted with the art, but, generally speaking, among the mere lookers on it excited astonishment—to view one man (and a scientific professor too) hit all to pieces, his head so transmogrified that few traces of his former phiz remained, completely doubled up, and perfectly insensible to his defeat; while the other combatant was seen retiring from the contest with barely a scratch, and driving away from the Curragh with all the gaiety of a spectator. It was impossible that such a vast superiority could be passed without remark.
On Belcher’s return to England, he took a benefit at the Fives Court (May 20, 1814), which was numerously patronised, preparatory to his commencing tavern keeper, at the Castle, in Holborn, previously in the occupation of Gregson, afterwards the caravansera of the respected Tom Spring; and here we must make room for a slight anecdote recorded by Pierce Egan.
“Tom, in company with Shelton, about a week after he had defeated Dogherty, upon coming down Highgate Hill, in a chaise, was challenged to have a trotting match, by a couple of fellows in a gig. Belcher endeavoured to give them the go-by, but they kept continually crossing him. At length, one of those heroes, determined upon kicking up a row, jumped out of his chaise, and without further ceremony, seized Tom by the leg, in order to pull him out to fight, threatening, at the same time, to mill both Belcher and Shelton.
“‘Let go,’ said Tom, ‘and as soon as I get upon the ground, we will have a fair trial, depend upon it.’—One of Belcher’s fingers, at this period, was in a poultice, and his hand so sore that he could scarcely touch anything with it; however, this did not prevent the turn up from taking place. The cove’s nob was metamorphosed in a twinkling, and, by way of a finisher, he received a blow that sent him rolling down the hill, to the no small diversion of Shelton and Tom. The latter now mounted his gig with all the sang froid possible, good-naturedly advising this would be fighting man never to threaten, in future, beating two persons at once. Upon the blade’s stopping at the nearest inn to clean his face from the claret it was deluged with, he learnt, to his great surprise, he had been engaged with the celebrated Tom Belcher.”
“Belcher, whose desire for punishing his opponents always ceased on quitting the prize-ring, was attacked one evening, in June, 1817, upon his entering a genteel parlour in the vicinity of Holborn, in a most unhandsome manner, by Jack Firby (a fifteen stone man, and six feet high, but better known by the appellation of the Young Ruffian, and from his defeat by Jem Belcher). In spite of all his ruffianism and knowledge of boxing, his nob was instantly placed in chancery—his peepers were taken measure of for a suit of mourning—and his mug exhibited all the high vermilion touches of colouring, without the aid of a painter. In a few minutes he was so completely satisfied, from the celerity of his expert opponent, as scarcely to be able to retire, covered with shame and confusion for his insolence. Tom politely expressed himself sorry for the trifling interruption the company had experienced, without receiving the slightest scratch from his overgrown bully.”
In conclusion, we may take a glance at Belcher as the “retired pugilist,” a character which, in our own time, we have seen a sufficiency of examples to respect, despite the libels and lies of “Craven” and other calumniators.